


Look At Us, We're Off And Running

by alittlelove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Date, Bottom Louis, Crack, Exes, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry is a personal trainer, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, This should be angsty but I don't have the willpower to write emotions, Top Harry, and Louis is a teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlelove/pseuds/alittlelove
Summary: Louis' breakup with Harry, many moons ago, was clean, kind and easy. Until it wasn't.or, Niall sets Louis up on a blind date with his ex, who's just returned from an overseas exchange and determined for a second chance.





	Look At Us, We're Off And Running

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunlights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlights/gifts).



> Title from one of my favourite SUP3RFRUIT songs, Everything! Thank you so much for the prompt sunlights, I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much to the creators of the exchange for providing such a great experience!
> 
> Spelling is UK/AU and all mistakes are my own, I also don't own any of the characters used in this fic!
> 
> Without further ado, here's the fic! Enjoy!

                                                         

_No strings attatched._

That’s what Niall had told Louis two weeks ago, regarding- bloody hell- the _blind date_ he was waiting on, standing on the curb outside a cozy Italian restaurant he’s never visited before. The cold air wraps around his being, fills his lungs, and he loves the cold: every second of it, contradictory to the feelings he has towards Niall’s life choices. He watches snowflakes land on his gloves, and his jacket, and snuggles deeper in, feeling warm air rush out from the restaurant and seeping into his viens as the door swings open and a happy couple walks out. The warm air mixes with deep nerves and hesitation, but. Louis needs to uphold his reputation of the spontaneous one. The one who willingly _blind dates._

He shifts from foot to foot, the first sparks of impatienceness making his fingers twitch in his woollen gloves. Niall had said that the bloke had been overseas for a long period of time and just returned home, ready to scout the dating scene again. Louis had shrugged and brushed it off as an interesting conversation topic. He didn’t realise that the separation from living in London for so long would get him lost, but. It is what it is. London is quite big.

A cab messily pulls up a couple of metres down the curb, throwing snow in all directions. Louis splutters, wiping some off his jeans. Louis squints in the direction of the car, hoping that it may be the stranger that Niall gave an extremely vague description of. Honestly, Louis will deem himself lucky if he’s not an ax-murderer.

A nice chelsea boot hits the pavement, followed by a long leg covered in skinny, skinny, _skinny_ black jeans. Louis crumples his eyebrows, familiarity the first word to come to mind.

And, turns out familiarity was right. A smile tugs on his lips until he can’t hold it back anymore. It’s not his date, but _shit_ is Louis happy to see him again.

“Lou, _hey!_ ” Harry Styles shouts at him.

“Hey, you!” He shouts right back shamelessly. Look, it’s been years. Their unconventional relationship status seems weird on the surface, but for them, it works.

Four years ago, Louis’ high school sweetheart announced to him that he’d move across the world to study health and fitness with the best of the best. Destined for a life in London, they promptly broke it off on good terms and promised to keep in touch. Four years later, he’s back, he’s _fit,_ and he’s wrapping Louis up in his burly arms and smelling his hair. Louis is happy to sink into his embrace, anxiousness and nerves for whoever his date may be flying out of his head.

“How have you been?” Harry whispers into his hair.

Louis laughs, at the recognition that they’ve got real _jobs_ now, their lives have completely transformed since they last saw each other. “I’m great. Teaching drama at a nearby high school. What about you?”

“Woah, teacher?” Harry gasps, pulling away.

Louis nods, a blush creeping up his neck. “Well, yup. Dreams come true, I guess.”

Harry’s smile is so bright Louis has to look down at his feet. “I’m so happy for you.”

Louis pulls him by his sleeve further into the wall of the building so they don’t get in the way of any wandering pedestrians. “What have you been up to since you came home?”

Harry buries his face in his hands. “I only got back a couple of weeks ago, so just settling. New apartment, new job, new people.”

“A couple of weeks? Holy fuck, mate. Where are you at?”

Harry purses his lips. “There’s a gym down in Soho that I’ve scored a place at, but I’m also doing some freelance, entrepreneur-y stuff.”

Louis punches his shoulder (very muscled, must he add) playfully. “You’ve made a good life of yourself. I’m happy for you.”

Harry smiles tightly and looks down at the ground. “I mean, I guess. Every part of my life is pretty much figured out now. I’m just missing one thing.”

Louis scans his emerald eyes, noticing hesitation and reluctantness. He’s not sure whether to determine if Harry is lucky or not that Louis can read him like a book. “Your love life bleak?”

Some of the nerves clouding Harry’s expression begin to dissapate. “Bingo. That’s why I’m here, I guess.”

“You came back to London just to find someone?”

Harry cards his fringe away from his face, snowflakes landing on his quiff. Louis notes just how  _different_  he looks from what he once lusted after, four years later.

"No, you idiot. I was going to come back to London no matter what happened. This restaurant is what I meant."

"Oh, you have a boyfriend?" Louis questions, suddenly feeling small.

Harry chuckles down at him. "Fuck, no!"

Louis laughs along with him, confused beyond words. "So, what?"

Harry clenches his teeth at him, avoiding his glance. Louis nudges his stomach, noticing Harry's hesitation and eyes flickering from Louis to the door, to the curb and back to the door.

"I," Harry starts, scratching his nose. "Have a date. But I've never met the guy before."

Louis raises his eyebrows. "Go figure."

"What?"

"I have a date here too."

Harry's face lights up. "Thank god, if the stranger my mate set me up with is a creep then I can just gesture to you and you'll save me."

"Thank god indeed," Louis laughs with him, then his eyes widen in realisation, and he grabs at Harry's wrist. "Wait, you're going on a blind date?"

"Thereeee you go. You're really on a roll with these guessing games tonight, Louis." Harry shakes his wrist free, brow furrowed but tone joking.

"Fuck," Louis muffles his surprised laugh into his hands, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Then he remembers Niall's  _the poor lad's just returned from years across the globe and he's desperate for true love. "_ Was it Niall Horan?"

Harry's eyes widen comically. "You're shitting me! Are you serious?"

"I'm serious," Louis looks up at him. Then they seem to not hold it in anymore, and Louis collapses against Harry in a heap of laughter. The whole situation is hilarious because if anyone could've been on a blind date with Louis, of course it'd be his charming, charismatic, gorgeous ex-boyfriend.  _Of course._  

"I can't believe it," Harry wheezes through his laughter, catching his eye and holding his gaze. "What kind of destiny shit is this?"

"The weirdest destiny shit created," Louis stands up straight then, brushing snow off his jumper. "Because our ship has sailed."

Harry frowns. "Heyyy, don't lose hope. We were kids. I'm all handsome and rugged now."

Louis shrugs. "I didn't know what love was when I was seventeen, Harry. I was so enamoured with the idea of being in love that afterwards, I just realised you were a really great friend. Plus, your face still looks like a baby's butt. If anyone here is handsome and rugged, it's me."

A glimpse of pain flashes over Harry's face, which Louis swiftly ignores. "I have facial hair," Harry pouts, rubbing his chin.

Louis leans back on his heels. "Agree to disagree. So, do we want to have dinner here, or what?"

"I got all dressed up, so might as well make use." Harry gestures down himself. Louis takes his eyes down his body, taking in the absence of done-up buttons and the intricate tattoos on his chest and stomach. Huh.

"I'll be right behind you, then," Louis ushers him in. 

That night, they order pizzas and oysters and catch up properly, from the day Harry boarded the plane to New York until yesterday. Harry learns about Louis' classes, the school play, the kids, and Louis learns about Harry's American clients, his business and the like. Harry beams as he talks about Gemma and Anne and Louis does the same with his family and the twins, who were only born shortly after Harry left. It's nice, and the food is good, and it's very familiar. When it gets late, he pays for Harry's cab and they share a hug as they part ways. He's glad they're on a good note, and that Harry is not forcing himself onto Louis. Louis glad they're friends.

No matter how blurry the line between 'friends' and 'lovers' was. 

 

 

 

 

 

"My boyfriend from high school! What kind of coincidence, you know?"

Niall clicks his tongue before taking an above-average-sized bite into his burrito. Louis flinches.

When Niall swallows, he directs a finger right at Louis. "Maybe I'm bringing back a couple that was destined to be together."

"But we're not!" Louis argues, throwing his hands in the air. "We work better as friends."

Niall squints his eyes in assessment. "Why are you so opposed to the idea of trying again?"

Louis rolls his eyes. "We tried once. Turns out I didn't love him in that way."

Niall sighs, slapping Louis in the face, who in turn shrieks and holds his reddening cheek. "You dick!"

"Louis, four years is a  _long time."_

"Yep. So?"

Niall sighs again. "Look. I didn't know Harry before he left, but he is one of the most genuine people I have ever met. I have a hunch he's been like that for most of his life."

"He has," Louis nods sincerely. "That's what I love about him. Always been so down to earth, since day dot."

"So, what's changed about him from when you first met him to now?"

Louis raises his eyebrows, not completely understanding what Niall is getting at. "Um. He's hot now. Proper ripped. And... he's got his own style, and he's super independent. Has his own business and everything. Very driven and ambitious. And confident."

"And I take it that you didn't fall in love with him completely when he didn't have these qualities?"

" _Niall._ I love Harry. I loved him then. It just wasn't in the way I thought it was."

"Louis. Answer my question," Niall chews the last bite of his burrito loudly.

Louis looks down at the table of the chain Mexican restaurant they're in. "The thing is, if it was anyone else who I just met now like that, I'd already be on my knees proposing. But it's  _Harry._ It's different."

“Why?”

“Because of our history. Plus… he deserves someone extravagant, amazing. I’m not that for him.”

It seems Niall has given in his pleas, as he hangs his head, nodding, blonde strands of hair falling into his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s two Thursdays later, while Louis is marking written assessments for his seniors, when he recieves the first message from Harry since he last saw him.

 

_Hey Lou! Work is so busy at the moment but I miss you! Let’s catch up._

 

Louis shouldn’t let making plans disturb his work, and he was stupid to leave his phone so nearby as he’s literally the most easily distracted person ever, but. Harry is important. He brushes his fringe out of his eyes and adjusts his glasses as he replies:

 

_I’d love to !! So swamped with marking right now , but if you come over with takeaway and good company then you are a legend in my eyes_

The reply comes seconds later.

 

_I thought you’d never ask. Address?_

A bright smile blooms onto Louis’ face, his fingers typing his address at a record-breaking speed.

 

When Harry bounds in, fish, chips and gravy in tow, Louis is estatic. He springs up, ignoring his atrocious clothing choice of the baggiest sweatpants ever created and his pajama shirt. Well, Harry’s seen him worse. When they hug, Louis breathes him in, the smell of crisp deodorant mixed with sweat.

“Working today?” he asks as they pull away, Harry’s eyes wandering around the apartment.

“Er, yeah,” he replies, toeing off his shoes. “Nice place you’ve got here. Cozy.”

Louis looks around. “I guess,” he guides Harry towards the kitchen, leading the way through the thin hallway and past pictures, posters and plaques. Harry unloads the food while Louis grabs plates and cutlery, manouvering their way around with ease. “It’s good for me ‘cause I work full time. Don’t need very much stuff.”

Harry nods at him, pouring some chips onto a plate. “True.”

Louis opens the fridge, and calls out, “want booze? I’ve got beer.”

“Aren’t you working?” Harry laughs.

Louis picks two out anyways, shrugging. “One drink can’t hurt.”

They carry everything back to the living room, where Louis had set up his nest on the coffee table. He sits on the floor, papers sprawled along the table, and piles them up neatly so he can place his plate on the glass. Harry lies on the couch behind him, plate on his legging-clad lap and looking over Louis’ shoulder. Louis puts on his calm playlist, and they fall into silence as he marks and eats.

In twenty minutes, the whole class’ reports are graded and in his bag. Twenty more minutes later, and they’re idly chatting, both on their third beers. Or fourth. Louis may have lost count.

“Hey, Lou?” Harry muses while Louis’ rambling on about why he disagrees with most of the rules at his school. Louis looks back at him, sensing the seriousness in his voice.

His eyes are wide, pupils a little blown from the alcohol, biting his lip. Harry’s leaning so far off the couch, he’s a millimetre from collapsing off, but. Louis is his cushion if he falls. Bones may be broken, but Harry will be safe.

“Yeah?” he scoots back a little more, so they can see each other easier.

“Why did you go on the blind date?” Harry asks.

Well. Um. “Niall kind of forced me into it,” he laughs at the memory. “But, you know me, I was open to anything. I mean, I’m not desperate to find someone, but I’m not opposed to it either. What about you?”

Harry hums in response, tapping his fingers on the edge of the couch. It’s a few minutes of silence before either of them speaks again.

“Niall probably told you, but,” he starts. “I’m pretty eager to find someone. I’m also trying to get over a guy, so…”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?

Panic bubbles in Louis’ viens. He takes another sip of beer, finishing the bottle before asking, “you’re still in love with someone?”

“Yup.”

Louis pats his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Harry frowns at him, lips wet from the bottle clasped in his hand. “Don’t be. Love is a great feeling. It’s just not so great when you don’t know if they feel the same.”

“I understand,” Louis replies, and they fall into silence.

After Louis from the kitchen with two more beers in hand, he finds Harry sitting on the floor, where he was just minutes before. Louis sits down beside him, prying one of the beers into his outstretched hand.

Louis watches Harry as he brings the bottle to his lips, opening around the cap and swallowing around it. He then does the same as Harry watched him.

His gaze doesn’t diverge as he asks, “were you in a relationship in New York?”

“No,” Harry blinks at him, eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. “I partied too much to commit to anyone.”

Louis ignores the relief rising in his stomach.

“I thought personal trainers couldn’t drink all that much, diets and shit,” he says.

“Nup,” Harry smiles cheekily at him. “I broke the rules.”

“I doubt much has changed,” Louis comments idly, taking another large sip from his drink and watching as Harry mirrors his actions.

They both don’t talk for a few minutes, tiredness of the end of the week and haze of the alcohol dawning on them. Louis notes the absence of distance between them, able to feel Harry’s body heat in front of him quite incessantly.

Louis doesn’t know where the urge to kiss this boy senseless came from, but it’s overwhelming and he can’t fucking think of anything else. _Fuck._ This can’t happen this can’t happen this can’t happen this _absolutely cannot happen ever-_

“Louis,” Harry urges, and Louis’ eyes flick up to meet his, the space between them quickly dissapitating. It’s so dark, and the only light on is this shitty office light Louis uses to mark, which enhances all of Harry’s features, his eyes, his _lips._ God.

“Harry, I have no fucking idea what’s happening to me,” he grabs Harry’s bicep through his long-sleeve.

Something shifts on Harry’s face. “Are you okay?”

Louis can’t stop looking at him, until he tears his gaze away reluctantly and hurries backwards so their physical contact is nonexistent. He ignores the tugging in his stomach. “I’m alright. It’s getting really late, Haz.”

Harry looks up at him apologetically and starts to stand up. “I’m sorry, I know you have school tomorrow. I should go.”

The rest is hazy. Louis vaguely recalls helping Harry slide his jacket on, and pays for his cab home again, wishing him well off with a hug that leaves him wanting more time, more company, _more._

When the door closes, he fists his hands in his hair and paces around. “What the fuck?” he asks himself, over and over, until he’s curled up in bed, wishing for more closure from his haywire emotions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Missing you!_

 

Louis rubs at an itch in his eye as he sits on the most fucking uncomfortable chair _ever._ His juniors are all off to themselves in an outside-of-school theatre, and he’s sat on a plastic chair in the very back, because the maintenance insisted that he’d ruin the cotton quality of the chairs if he lounged about on them. Har-umph.

Work has had Louis positively swamped, Christmas plays to direct, children to motivate before the end of semester and the like. His social life has been positively thrown out of the window. So obviously, it comes as a surprise when Harry’s text comes through. Louis’ spent the past few weeks pushing away any thoughts that had to do with him, although his bones have sort of been aching in his absence. They’ve only met up, like, twice since Harry got back, but it feel like he’s always been around. Accessible.

He glances around, ensures none of his students are bounding up the endless stairs to enquire with him, and pulls out his phone to reply:

_I do too. Really wish we were having a quiet day like old times instead of sitting at the back of a stranded theatre !!_

By ‘old times’, he’s referring to back in high school, when they’d stay over at each other’s houses every weekend, bake cookies and lazily make out all day. He has no doubt Harry will understand what he meant in the text. But, nope, no way, never in a million years does he want anything past friends with Harry.

They’ve tried before. It wasn’t right. Harry is absolutely _perfect_ , he’s literally everything Louis looks for in a guy. When they were together, back then, his vision was too crowded with thoughts of _YES I’M FINALLY IN A RELATIONSHIP_ to actually focus on forming an emotional bond. They’d just somehow learned everything about each other in the process. And, now Harry is even more perfect than he was, but Louis will not bow down in continually reminding himself that it didn’t work. He’s not being himself, yes. It’s not like him to shut people out. Louis is almost one-hundred-percent sure that he is the most open-minded person in London. Europe, even.

“I’m going crazy,”he whispers to himself, wide eyed.

He truly is. Then Harry replies, and it seems he is too.

 

_You really want that?_

Oh, yeah. Days where they acted coupley and were so smitten it hurt.

Does it still want days like that?

 

_Honestly?_

It only takes a few seconds for Harry to reply.

 

_Honestly, pleeease._

“Might as well,” he mumbles to himself, pressing send on a new message.

 

_I want it more than anything in the world._

After it’s sent, delivered; Louis sighs in relief: because he knows it’s true.

 

Half an hour later, he rounds up the class with a clouded mind. He’s baffled by the fact that after only just over a month, he’s become so enamoured with someone he thought he’d never see again. Hm. The future works out in weird ways.

His heart almost aches, and he doesn’t know why, but he wants Harry so bad, despite everything he’s telling himself. He hates it.

But he also loves it so fucking much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Now we wait,” Harry stands up from the oven, hands on his small hips. Louis tries to keep his gaze off his biceps, exposed by his muscle tank. He pulls the most charming smile he can, fiddling with his hands. “What are you smiling like that for?” Harry snickers at him.

Louis shrugs, contentness flowing through his veins and spreading out to his fingers and toes. He doesn’t know what could have possibly made him so happy. Maybe it’s the impending weekend. It could also be the fact that Harry invited him to his new apartment to bake cookies and have nights like they used to: spare the kissing. Obviously.

It’s just a regular Friday.

“I’m just happy you invited me here,” Louis smiles up at him from whre he’s sat on a stool at the counter. “To your nest. Your bachelor pad. Your haven.”

Harry chuckles, wiping his hands on a handtowel and shaking his head. His hair is loose and hanging over his eyes, his complexion is bright, and if Louis had the willpower to get his head out of his arse, he’d write sonnets about Harry’s beauty. He’s no English teacher, but he would try his absolute best.

“I wouldn’t call it my haven _quite_ yet,” Harry reasons, sauntering over to the opposite side of the bench and leaning his elbows on it, his face level with Louis’ and closer than he’d anticipated. Louis can see all his freckles, lines, and everything else that makes him so handsome and soft. Harry then continues, “give me a few months and it’ll be home.”

“Really?” Louis raises an eyebrow. “I called London home, even before the first time I came here.”

Harry opens his mouth, as if he’s trying to figure out how to rephrase. “I mean, London always has been home. It’s just weird being in a big apartment all alone. In New York, I had roommates, and before that, I was with family. You get me?”

Louis’ eyes crinkle with his understanding smile. “One hundred percent.”

Harry positively beams.

“Anyway, my point is, I’m happy to be here. There isn’t much else I’d rather be doing right now.”

Louis didn’t think it was possible for Harry’s stupidly endearing smile to get any bigger, but it does. Louis probably has heart eyes right now but he can’t bring up the courage to defend himself against it this time.

“I’m happy you came,” Harry says around his smile, quiet and soft. Louis feels lucky to be one of the few people who see him like this instead of him yelling, _ONE MORE! DEDICATION MEANS RESULTS!_  right in his face as he does some excruciatingly difficult workout.“Really happy.”

Louis sighs. “It’s nice to have good company, good wine,” he holds up the glass beside him in a toast, “on a night where I’d usually be alone.”

Harry laughs brightly, chin propped up by his hands and his face still close to Louis’. They’ve still got the counter between them, but Louis feels that this situation is intimate, almost too much for one of the first times they’ve caught up in a long while. There’s no mistaking it was easy back then, so it technically shouldn’t be any different to now. And it isn’t.

“It’s my pleasure to supply you good company and wine,” Harry speaks in just above a whisper, Louis’ eyes glued to the way his mouth moves, lips sweetly curling around his words. He’s struck by the urge to drown whatever more words he has to say with kisses, again. His eyes flicker back up to Harry’s, which are staring right back at his. Shit shit shit shit. He saw him looking at his mouth and thinking things he shouldn’t think and that’s bad because there’s no way in hell Harry is in the same boat as him and it’s all going to fall to pieces-

“Louis.”

“Yes, Haz?” he whispers, Harry’s tone almost reminiscent to how it was on the night they shared together mere weeks ago that Louis is still trying to get over.

Harry pauses, looking down and around Louis’ face, as if trying to read him. Their eyes lock again, and Louis wants to look away, he really, really does, but he can’t. He can’t do that to himself, and he can’t do that to Harry, with the way his deep green eyes are gleaming right now. He wants to kiss the worried pout right off his lips.

They’re still a good distance apart, and Louis can’t take it. When he wants something, it’s what he gets, and being spontaneous is his _shit_. Harry should know that well enough by now. So, he gets up, and sits on the counter, causing Harry to stand up straighter and stare at him in disbelief. Louis moves to sit on the edge, legs dangling off the side and a playful smile on his face.

“Oh, my god,” Harry begins. “You…”

Louis cards some of the loose curls on Harry’s forehead away from his face endearingly. He loves Harry’s hair like this, loves him like this. It’s weird to think, that Louis loves him, but he doesn’t think he ever stopped after high school. He smiles wider at the thought, dismissing the fact that Harry may not have the same feelings towards him, but, acting by the bashful blush high on his cheeks and the way his hands are fisting at his sides, Louis feels safe.

“Hm?” Louis questions, dopily.

“I…” Harry begins, nervously. He takes a shaky breath, then, resting his hands on Louis’ knees. “Ever since I left for New York, I knew something wasn’t right. I… felt a little lost. I was fine, settling in and stuff, to the college life, but something was missing, y’know? And, you don’t know this, but I was so against our breakup.”

Louis’ eyebrows skyrocket. ‘Seriously?”

“Yup,” Harry says. “But you seemed so cool with it so I just carried on… I knew you were content, so that gave me some peace inside.  Wanted to get over you, so I started partying, and drinking, and sleeping with girls I’d never met before. I don’t think any of it worked, though, because somehow they all reminded me of you.

“You’d invade all of my thoughts, I saw all of your facebook statuses and I wanted to be there with you _so_ badly. Funny story, one girl once looked so similar to you I called her your name when she was leaving. I was like ‘Thanks, Lou.’ You drove me wild. You still do.”

Louis blinks down at him in disbelief. “Oh, my God,” he hides his face in his hands. “Why? Why me?”

Hary brings his huge hand up, so it’s framing Louis’ face delicately, stroking his cheek. “Don’t you know?”

Louis pulls a face and starts to lean down, towards where he wants to be the most. “I think I know, but I want to hear you say it first.”

Harry laughs, snorting, but brings his other hand up to grab the other side of Louis’ head and holds it gently in his hands, like a treasure. “You really do?”

Louis licks his lips, smile taking over his face. “I really do. If you don’t I might crawl into the oven to hang out with the cookies and roast away for a little while, while crying my eyes out the whole time.”

A loud honk escapes Harry’s mouth at that, his eyes closing and face coming in even closer. When he opens his eyes, now, Louis can see flecks of blue. _Exquisite._ Louis wants to direct a whole series of films about this moment. Harry replies, “Somehow I don’t expect any less from you,” while laughing.

Louis sends him his sweetest smile and moves his face closer, so their noses are just a few centimetres apart. “Say it,” he whispers sweetly.

“Only if you do,” Harry rubs their noses together, then. It’s one of the cutest things Louis has both seen and done in his whole adult life.

“I promise I will,” he swears.

Harry smiles at him shakily. “I’m so nervous, but confident at the same time.”

Louis sighs impatiently, drifting his eyes shut and closing some more of the damned space between them. “Just tell me you love me, Styles.”

One of Harry’s hands slides from Louis’ face to the back on his neck, nudging their foreheads together and moving to stand right in between his legs. “You’re so demanding,” he exhales. “I love you. I love you so much. I’ve wanted to say that for… years. Years!”

And then, Louis does what he’s been desperate to do for weeks.

The first touch of their lips is delicate, careful, since it’s been so long, and Louis braces himself on Harry’s broad shoulders for leverage and he licks into his mouth and tastes what he’s been yearning for. Relief, happiness and love rush through his veins. _Want want want want want._

“I love you, too,” Louis whispers against his lips, when they catch a break, breathing deeply.

Harry’s mouth smudges against his again, murmuring, “I’ve waited so long to hear that.”

They both exhale in relief against each other, Harry’s hands exploring Louis’ body for the first time in many years. Louis has no clue what’s to come with Harry, but he feels safe. He trusts himself, and he’s ready for whatever the future will bring with them, whether it’s meant to be or not. He trusts Harry.

“How long?” he replies, grabbing at Harry’s hair and tugging their chests flush together. “God, I love you. How did I not realise earlier?”

Then, Harry moans into his mouth, squeezing his hips and pulling Louis’ legs around his torso. “Four years, I guess. I’ve wanted you back ever since I left.”

Louis kisses the underside of his jaw, and licks down his neck and relishes in the taste. “Me, too,” he comments, Harry shuddering under him. “Hey, how about we take this upstairs?”

Promptly, Harry cheekily squeezes his bum and lifts him off the counter. “I’d love to.”

 

 

“I can’t believe you have a sex playlist,” Louis exhales into the pillow, folding his legs over the back of Harry’s neck and licking behind his jaw, tasting him. Harry looms over him, biceps holding himself up as he stretches Louis open, makes him feel amazing, pleasures him to no end. The Weeknd’s latest flows through the room, providing a backdrop to their whines, moans and whimpers.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry exhales, running his hands over Louis’ thighs and eliciting a quiet ‘ _fuck_ ’. Louis’ almost positive he’s never had anyone this caring, this good, this phenomenal for a night. And as Louis arches, wails, splits open, he promises to have many, many more nights like this.

Later, he makes a promise to Harry.

“I want you to know that,” He whispers, tracing his hand down Harry’s chest. “I won’t find an excuse to leave you like I did before. And I especially won’t find one to just focus on myself. You have me. All of me.”

And all of himself is what he gives. 

**Author's Note:**

> Everlasting thank you's !!!!!!!


End file.
